I pay the bill for the extra coffee?’
‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Just bear this in mind, Mr Security Man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m doing fine as I am. Here—let me contribute. Save your money for your next coffee-shop adventure.’
‘I doubt there’ll be one.’
‘Too much of a security risk for you to keep taking up with strangers?’ she suggested.
‘Something like that.’ He stared at her intently, but there was no sign that she’d recognised him.
‘I guess you have to be careful in the security business.’
‘My involvement is in the security of a country,’ he explained.
‘Big stuff,’ she said.
‘You could say that.’ He grinned.
‘You must be pretty powerful. And yet you look so normal.’
He tried hard not to laugh. ‘Why thank you.’
‘Well, this has all been very nice.’ She sighed as she gathered up her things. ‘But now it’s time for me to go. Some of us have to work,’ she added.
‘Let me walk you back—where do you work?’ He wasn’t ready to let her go.
‘At Miss Francine’s laundry,’ she said with a touch of defiance.
He got it. Some of the rich yachties could be real snobs. If he turned out to be one of them, she’d rather know now. ‘The laundry on the marina?’ he prompted, having noticed the bustling establishment on his walk.
‘Yes.’ She pulled another of her comic faces. ‘We’ve moved on from banging out dirt with stones at the stream.’
‘Uh-huh. So, what’s your job at the laundry?’
‘Ironing and finishing.’
‘You any good?’
‘You bet I am.’
His lips twitched and then she laughed. It must have dawned on them both at the same moment that two strangers could share a table and chat over coffee, without things getting heavy.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a graceful flutter of her slender hands. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just that some visitors to King’s Dock are snobby idiots and I wanted to be sure you weren’t one of them.’
‘I’d never have guessed,’ he said dryly.
‘So long as you’re not a trust-fund yachtie with nothing better to do than spend your inherited money, I guess I’m okay with that.’
‘Touchy about money?’ he probed as they navigated their way out through the crowded café.
‘Every sensible person cares about money,’ she said.
‘Well, I can reassure you on that score. Everything I’ve got I’ve earned. All I inherited was debt.’
‘There must be something else wrong with you,’ she said as they reached the door. ‘No one’s perfect.’
‘Feel free to examine my faults,’ he invited.
‘Not likely! So, who left the debt?’ she asked with her hand on the door. ‘A close relative?’
‘My uncle.’ As he spoke and took over opening the door, he realised that he hadn’t been this frank with anyone ever, let alone on such short acquaintance.
‘So you repaid your uncle’s debt as a matter of honour,’ she guessed as they stepped out into icy air from the steaming warmth of the busy café.
He shrugged as he thought back to when Qalala’s future had depended on a financial rescue package, and how lucky he was to have already made a fortune in tech. This had allowed him to vastly improve the lot of his people, and save the sapphire mines his uncle had been plundering for years.
‘Let’s just say my uncle almost ruined the family business,’ he told her as they walked along.
‘And you saved it,’ she said confidently.
‘You’ve got a lot of faith in a man you’ve only just met,’ he commented.
Her extraordinary green eyes shot him a penetrating glance. ‘I don’t feel like this about everyone.’
For some strange reason, he felt the same, and wanted to tell her more about the history of his country, and how deeply he felt for Qalala. Meeting Lucy had turned out to be a real wake-up call. The type of wife his royal council was urging him to take would be a matter of business for both parties, whereas a mistress like Lucy would give as good as she got. ‘So now you’ve got me all worked out, what’s next for you?’ he probed.
‘I’d like to hear more about you,’ she said.
‘Some other time,’ he proposed as they reached the marina.
‘There you go again,’ she said with an amused sideways look. ‘That would mean seeing each other again,’ she explained. ‘So, where do you come from? You don’t have an office pallor, so I’m guessing somewhere hot...’
‘Somewhere far away,’ he said.
‘Come on, Mr Security Man. I need specifics.’
‘So you can tell your friends?’
‘Can’t I be interested?’
Was he going to talk about the billions he’d made in tech? She’d run a mile. Lucy just wasn’t the type to be impressed by money. And he wanted to keep her around a little longer. Should he tell her that he used to be known as the Playboy Prince, and his people, who had been downtrodden for years by his profligate uncle, hadn’t expected anything of him? They couldn’t have guessed that he’d been waiting for this chance to serve his country, and would seize the opportunity with both hands. Putting his business acumen to its most demanding test yet, he had transformed Qalala, and would continue to put the country before himself.
‘And you accuse me of daydreaming,’ Lucy accused.
He linked arms with her as they crossed the road. It was a gesture that came as naturally as breathing.
Tadj was gorgeous. And yes, she was smitten. She’d have to be a block of wood not to be affected by his firm touch on her arm, or those amazing eyes, scanning the street to make sure they were safe before he crossed. He was so rugged and tall and tanned, it felt amazing to be linking arms with him.
‘Watch out,’ he exclaimed as, distracted, she almost tripped over the kerb.
As his grip tightened and their faces came dangerously close, she determined to discover Tadj’s true identity when she returned to the laundry. Someone was bound to know. Gossip was rife on King’s Dock, and spread like wildfire. A man like Tadj would hardly go unnoticed. Her workmates would have all the juice, which would almost certainly include
